


Compassion For All Our Monsters

by Haicrescendo



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: And it hurts everyone, Gen, Ozai is a terrible father, Pre-Slash, also written by sokka, and needs SO MUCH LOVE, and not the sexy kind, as written by sokka, birth is a curse and existence is a prison, but the absolutely horrifying kind where he stares down Hakoda from across the room and hisses, childhood nightmare fuel, five feet apart cause they’re not gay, hand waving canon, how were we ever afraid of you, on a very deep and very real level, peopleing for dummies, sokka takes one for the team, the author ships zuko x emotionally healthy and fulfilling relationships, the team is ungrateful, two bros chilling in a hot tub, what to do when you find out your former enemy is a victim of child abuse, what’s a little trauma between friends?, you also think he’s kinda pretty, zuko doesn’t have a death wish he has a death assurance, zuko has daddy issues, zuko hurts everybody’s feelings by existing, zuko is touch-starved and stressy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 07:48:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21175916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haicrescendo/pseuds/Haicrescendo
Summary: How Sokka learned to shut up and be nice, and also learn a little bit more about Zuko than he wanted to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Eternal thanks to Winterkill, who beta’d this for me and let me bounce ideas off of her. <3

* * *

See, here’s the thing. Zuko might be a cantankerous, dangerous pain in the ass, but he’s a useful pain in the ass. He can help out with Aang’s little not-knowing-how-to-firebend problem, he can hunt, he can cook, he can fight...and he doesn’t really ask for much in return. He’s like the best polar bear dog in the world, if polar bear dogs came shaped like teenage boys and equipped with fire.

Sokka doesn’t really like him, and he doesn’t really trust him, but he’s a guy who can recognize somebody useful. A good chief never throws away a serviceable tool.

Ha.

Tool.

The point is that Sokka doesn’t have to like the guy, but he accepts him as he comes as best he can because Sozin’s Comet is  _ right around the corner _ . He’s got to be reasonable about this if he wants to even consider a future if they can win. Toph agrees with him on that front, luckily, but Katara’s so focused on Aang that she can’t even consider it. Sokka’s not an idiot, though. She’ll either change her kind or she won’t, but she knows that under no circumstances is she allowed to murder the prince of the Fire Nation.

That’s a terrible plan. Sokka’s had his share of terrible plans but that one might actually be The Worst Plan.

Zuko’s still kind of a dickhead, though.

“Thanks for breakfast, ricebender,” he says that morning when Zuko scoops him a bowl of congee out of the cooking pot, “You didn’t poison it, did you?” 

“Sorry,” Zuko says sweetly and for just a second sounds  _ so much like Katara _ that Sokka realizes immediately that he fucked up, “Let me help you with that.” He reaches out and touches the bowl that Sokka’s holding on the bottom with a fingertip and it immediately goes so hot that Sokka screeches and nearly drops it.

Zuko snickers under his breath like the asshole he is.

“Wanted to make sure it was hot enough.”

Toph cackles from across the room, and Sokka glares, sets his bowl down, and blows on his fingers.

“You wanna go?” he threatens. Zuko lifts his jaw imperiously and stares down at him. There’s a little furrow between his eyebrows that means he’s holding himself back from throttling something; Sokka sees that furrow a lot.

“With you? Absolutely not.”

He acts like a throwdown with Sokka’s not even worth his time, and it makes Sokka want to knock him upside the head with Boomerang. But no. If Katara’s not allowed to murder him, Sokka isn’t either.

He thinks it’s a bit of a shame sometimes.

Zuko turns away from him, and Sokka lets it drop but doesn’t forget.

He waits until Aang gets distracted by a dragon-butterfly, and leaves Zuko alone in their training ring. Then he approaches, meteorite sword in hand.

“Hey,” he calls, and Zuko turns to look at him. “Put up or shut up. Go get your steel unless you’re pigchicken!” Golden eyes sharpen, and Zuko’s already grouchy face gets even grouchier.

“Fighting you wouldn’t be worth the time it takes to get them,” he retorts.

Sokka expected this, wheels around, and takes off running. A lifetime of bothering Katara has prepared him for just this moment.

“Guess they’re mine, then!” He hollers and makes off in the direction of Zuko’s room. For a second, he thinks it hasn’t worked and then hard, pounding footsteps sound behind him. Then, Zuko passes him and bolts down the hall for his blades. Having appropriately goaded a dual-wielding firebender, Sokka stops running and moseys his way back to the training ring.

Zuko’s got pride and lots of it. He won’t let this shit slide, and Sokka’s depending on it. He’s not surprised when Zuko stomps back from whence he came, face drawn tight and eyes furious, holding his dao like he was born with them. Not fucking fair that can do that  _ and _ bend. Not even fucking fair.

“You ready to go now, Princess?” Sokka mocks him and doesn’t even give Zuko a chance to reply before he’s flying at him with a shout. Blades come together with a clang, and it doesn’t take long for Sokka to realize that he may have miscalculated.

He’s seen Zuko firebend, of course, and knows that he’s fast and strong and aggressive, knows that he wouldn’t stand a chance if this was a bending match even if he  _ could  _ control one of the elements. What he didn’t take into consideration was the fact that Zuko might actually be faster and stronger with steel than he is with flame, and even though Sokka starts out with the element of surprise, he doesn’t get to keep it for long before Zuko’s backing him up, attacking and defending seamlessly by turn. 

Sokka whips around and swings, but Zuko slips behind him and pulls a move he  _ knows _ he’s seen Aang do more than once. Pressing a hand to the space between Sokka’s shoulders and keeping behind him, doing little more than being a wily, annoying piece of shit while poking him in the thigh with the tip of his sword, not hard enough to draw blood, but definitely hard enough to piss Sokka right off.

Let it not be said that a firebender can’t learn some new tricks. Sokka just didn’t know how many he had.

“Quit fighting like an airbender,” Sokka snarls, still unable to turn around. Zuko takes pity on him seconds later and lets turn to face him, only to duck his next swing and get right up in Sokka’s face.

“If it ain’t broke,” he huffs, and then somehow gets Sokka’s sword between both of his, twists, and wrenches it out of his hands to send it flying across the ring. Sokka lurches forward but Zuko immediately backs off, lowering his blades like he thinks they’re done.

Oh, no way.

And then Sokka throws himself at him and punches Zuko right in the face, grabs him by the collar, and throws him to the ground.

Zuko yelps, but he’s startled, and it slows him enough that Sokka can avoid his first wild, flailing hit. Not the second one, though, when Zuko whips out his leg to knock Sokka’s feet out from under him and then clocks him in the jaw.

They scuffle on the ground for a good minute until Sokka manages to pin Zuko enough to scramble up and sit on him, pressing down on his belly and digging his own knees into the dirt, pushing Zuko’s shoulders down with his palms.

Both of them are heaving, trying to catch their breath, and Sokka can’t help but grin down at him.

“Lesson one of the Southern Water Tribe,” he tells him smugly, “It ain’t over til it’s over.” Bragging’s not cute, but he hardly ever gets to do it.

He expects to get immediately thrown off, but it never comes.

Zuko’s very, very still on the ground, and his eyes are so wide that even the one with the scar is showing white all around. Sokka can feel him practically vibrating under his hands and experimentally, just to see what’ll happen, puts a hair more pressure on him. Zuko sinks down, silent and strangely pliant, as if all the fight’s gone out of him.

“Hey, man,” Sokka says, “You good?” He wanted to beat Zuko up a little, but he didn’t wanna give the guy brain damage. Sokka doesn’t know him super well, but he knows he’s not a quitter, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so motionless. “Yo, Jerkbender!” 

He feels like maybe he should check for a pulse, so he moves his hands from where they curl quietly over the curve of Zuko’s shoulders to the exposed line of pale throat exposed by his red tunic. They close to touch flesh and at the contact, Zuko about jumps out of his skin.

All the color that the exertion of their match brought to his face drains down into his collar to leave him ghost white. Zuko shoves  _ hard _ , throwing Sokka off of him like it takes absolutely nothing and leaping to his feet with a loud clatter. 

“ _ Don’t touch me _ ,” Zuko snarls like some furious, wild thing, but Sokka’s distracted by the fact that his hands, always so steady even when moving, are shaking violently. “ _ Do not put your hands on me. _ ”

“Hey, dude, I’m sorry,” Sokka tries to apologize because he doesn’t understand what the hell just happened. Zuko won’t look at him or even come closer, and instead starts backing away, step by unsteady step, until he takes a sharp inhale, turns around…

...and flees.

Sokka’s left, then, standing bruised and tired in the middle of the ring, alone.

* * *

  
  


Zuko doesn’t come back that evening.

He doesn’t come back for lunch. He doesn’t come back to work with Aang that afternoon. He doesn’t even come back for dinner. Sokka’s the last person to see him, and he fields off the inevitable questions with as much diplomacy as he can without giving away details that aren’t anybody’s business. It’s not like he’s going to go out of his way to tell everybody he got his ass handed to him and then proceeded to lose the Avatar’s firebending teacher.

He feels like that particular direction of questioning wouldn’t go well.

“So, what?” Toph demands, “Y’all just fought and then he  _ left _ ? You’re not leaving  _ anything _ out?”

Curse that blind monster’s built in lie detector.

“Nope,” Sokka squeaks, nonetheless, “He just left.” Not a complete lie, but definitely not the truth.

Something happened; he’s just not sure what it is.

Toph glares at him but doesn’t keep interrogating him. For whatever reason, she actually really likes Zuko, and she knows he’s being shady. But whatever his heartbeat tells her, she lets it drop.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” Aang says optimistically because Aang’s world is a bright and shiny place that makes sense, apparently.

Sokka wishes he had that much hope.

* * *

  
  


Zuko does come back.

He waits until he thinks that everyone’s got to be asleep before he slinks back into the temple. If Sokka wasn’t watching for him, he’d never have known because while he’s not hiding, his steps are soft and above all,  _ silent _ . It doesn’t take Zuko long to realize that Sokka’s awake and sitting up and watching him.

He looks  _ terrible. _

Zuko’s hair has that dried up sweaty look of someone who worked themselves out past the point of comfort for too long, his eyes are red-rimmed, and his hands are still trembling a little bit. Not as badly as before, but he’s yet to build back his composure completely.

Sokka doesn’t know what exactly happened, but he knows that it was  _ bad _ , and in the name of not running the other boy off again, makes a point of making himself look non-threatening. When Zuko doesn’t come any closer, Sokka waves to him.

“There’s some food saved if you want it,” he says softly.

“No thanks, I’m good,” Zuko says stiffly with absolutely no feeling in his voice and takes a step in the direction of his room, the heels of his feet toeing the wall.

Zuko is, like, the opposite of good.

“Please come sit for a bit, maybe eat something,” Sokka says. He’s not a spiritual kind of guy, but he’s got pretty decent people skills. He has a feeling that if he doesn’t do something about this with Zuko, they might never see him again. “We were worried about you.”

Zuko doesn’t look like he believes it but it’s enough to make him take a step forward, out of the shadows and towards what’s left of the campfire, eventually settling down across from Sokka and keeping the fire between them. Sokka’s not sure he means to do it, but the gesture’s meaning, subconscious or not, is obvious. 

_ This is my weapon and I am prepared to use it. _

Sokka lets Zuko keep his space and goes to scoop him a bowl of stew that Katara’s had chilling in a box of ice. It won’t keep for too long but there’s more than enough for breakfast.

“It’s cold,” he says when he returns, making a point of sitting next to him and not across from him, “but you can take care of that.” He hands Zuko the bowl and is relieved when the banished prince breathes, long and purposeful, and steam starts wafting from the now-hot food. “I think Katara used some of your red stuff in it.” Zuko’s red stuff is a jar of some Fire Nation spice that makes everything just a little bit fiery, a paste of red chilis and tons of wild grass-garlic. Zuko puts it in  _ everything _ .

Zuko takes an appreciative whiff and takes a bite, and Sokka takes advantage of his mouth being full to talk.

“Listen, man, I’m really sorry for earlier. I just wanted to check your pulse, I wasn’t trying to, like, strangle you. But I probably still should have warned you first, and I didn’t, and I’m sorry.” 

Because at the core of it, Sokka doesn’t hate Zuko. Even when they were fighting earlier, he didn’t even really want to hurt him. It’s just that sometimes it’s easier to talk with actions than with words. And Zuko is really, really bad at using his words.

“It’s...it’s okay,” Zuko says, finally, and Sokka shakes his head.

It’s not okay, though. There’s a difference between forgiveness and something being okay, and Sokka knows the difference. He has a sinking feeling that Zuko maybe doesn’t.

“No, it wasn’t okay. It’s okay for it to not be okay. I just…I’d rather you accept my apology if you can, and if not, that’s fine too. But don’t lie to me and say what I did to you was okay because it wasn’t.”

There’s a solid five minutes of silence, and Zuko eats without meeting his eyes, and Sokka feels like he’s going to scream if this is how it ends.

“It’s just…” finally some words come out of Zuko’s mouth, very quiet and very deliberate. Sokka stops twisting his hands. “Sometimes somebody will do something and my brain shuts off. I  _ know _ you didn’t mean to, you know, but I don’t think…I don’t think my brain knew that.” Sokka’s got no clue what he means by that, but then he thinks back and remembers what Zuko looked like before, like a tiger-seal pushed up against a wall, and then he thinks he does. “It’s...bad, sometimes.”

_ Bad  _ seems like an understatement.

“What makes it happen most?”  _ So that I can never do it again _ .

Zuko flinches.

“Sudden movements, sometimes. Sometimes not. Sometimes, uh, sometimes Uncle would try and hug me and it would be bad. One time he had to pull me out of the rafters when I still had my ship. Dao, uh, my ship’s cook touched my shoulder once when I didn’t see him. I nearly knocked him out, and Uncle had to spend the rest of the night with me.”

_ That’s...that’s really bad _ , Sokka thinks, and maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. Most of Zuko’s life seems like a waking nightmare from what he knows about it, but what he describes sounds more happens when you’re so used to being hurt that you expect it every time somebody touches you.

Zuko’s not some craggy old dude who’s been on the front lines for the last thirty years. He’s a  _ kid _ .

“You can’t just spend your whole life like that! You’ll either freak out and kill somebody or…” Something worse. “How are you gonna find a nice Fire Nation girl to marry you if she can’t even hold your hand?” 

Weirdly, Zuko just shrugs.

“I’ve spent the last three years knowing I probably wouldn’t survive this. That hasn’t changed.”

Sokka can’t stand for that and takes the bowl right out of his hands to set it on the floor and takes Zuko’s hands in both of his, squeezing tightly. He’s so  _ warm _ . 

“Dude, that’s like the most awful shit I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth,” he exclaims, “Don't ever, ever say that around Aang.” 

Though Zuko looks like he’s never said it around anybody, because his eyes are wide and shocked and almost horrified. His hands are tight in Sokka’s, coiled and tense, and he gives them another squeeze, a softer one this time.

Zuko doesn’t pull away.

“Is this bad?” Sokka asks and slowly, so slowly, the firebender shakes his head.

“No,” he answers finally, “That’s...that’s okay. It’s fine. It’s fine.” It’s like he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone else but honestly, he does seem to calm and settle under the touch.

Sokka gives his hands another firm squeeze and marvels at what his life has become.

“Listen, man, I know you’re big and tough and shit, but you can’t live thinking everybody’s gonna hurt you—“

“ _ Everyone has hurt me _ .”

Sokka freezes, and it’s like Zuko reanimates, shaking his hands away from him and pulling them back towards himself.

“This isn't a poor me pity party,” Zuko continues as if that was a totally fucking normal thing to say, “But it’s the truth and it’s the way that it is. I accepted that before I was even banished. Some things aren’t gonna change, even if I want them too. I fucked over the only person that never--nevermind. Nevermind.”

That’s just fucking heartbreaking.

Sokka grabs his hands back and ignores Zuko’s sharp inhale of breath, scoots closer until they’re hip to hip, side pressed up against side.

“Okay, but listen,” he emphasizes each word with a firm squeeze of fingers, “Here’s the thing. And I know you’re not gonna believe it, but I’m gonna say it anyway. Not everybody wants to hurt you. I don’t. Not maliciously. Not outside of a training match, and not really even then. I want to win, but like, even then the goal is not to hurt you.”

Sokka switches tactics because the current one’s not working, shuffles around to sit cross-legged in front of Zuko and look him very seriously in the eyes.

“You know, we have a thing in the South Pole. They say that when a baby’s born, you can give it food and shelter and safety and it’ll still die if you don’t touch it.”

“Are you  _ seriously  _ implying that I wasn’t cuddled enough as a baby?” Zuko asks, completely deadpan.

“Nah, man, nah. You’re missing the point. I’m just saying that maybe that kind of stuff doesn’t really go away, you know? Look how much Aang and Katara touch people. Hell, even I do! Even  _ Toph _ likes to be touched. What I think is that somewhere along the line, somebody started fucking you up, and it’s  _ still  _ messing you up because the need doesn’t go away even if you want it to. And, okay, maybe some people don’t like being touched and that’s cool, but I...I think that you do.”

The words land like a blow, and Zuko flinches even though he hasn’t been struck. Sokka softens it by rubbing his thumbs over the ridges of Zuko’s knuckles like he’s a frightened ostrich-horse. His palms and fingers are calloused and scarred from years of bending and training and whatever else a prince needs to do, but the tops are soft and smooth.

“We never have to talk about it again if you don’t want to, but be honest. Does it feel good?” Sokka slackens his grip enough that if Zuko moves even a bit, his hands will be freed and drop. “I’m not gonna  _ hurt _ you.”

Zuko sags forward like a puppet with its strings cut and he tightens his grip on Sokka’s hands like it’s all that’s keeping him upright. He slips downward until his forehead rests so softly on Sokka’s sternum that if he’d had his eyes closed, he wouldn’t have felt it at all. The guy looks  _ exhausted _ , like he could easily sleep for a week and then go back to bed. The tension drains out of his body, and his fingers hold solidly onto Sokka’s hands, no longer trembling.

“It feels good,” he admits like it hurts. Maybe it does. “Please don’t move.” 

Sokka doesn’t move. He’s not sure how long he sits there like a statue to let Zuko pull himself together, but eventually the other boy sits up and lets him go on his own. 

He won’t look at him at all, but the way he gets up and walks back to his room is looser and more easy than Sokka’s ever seen him.

* * *

Things are...weirdly normal after that.

Sokka isn’t sure what he expected to change, but honestly, it’s like their conversation the past night never happened. And that’s fine, Sokka doesn’t need to be his best friend, he just needs the guy to exist functionally so that Aang might actually live to see thirteen. While it doesn’t seem to have affected Zuko all that much, Sokka’s annoyed to find that he’s more attuned to him now. 

Not just whether he looks like he’s going to double cross them, but more like his general state of being. Once he starts looking it’s actually really easy to see what starts to ruffle him up; they’re all used to hearing him shout and holler and screech, but it seems that when Zuko gets really, truly upset, he goes quiet.

And Zuko is so quiet after they get back from their  _ horrible fucking field trip  _ to Boiling Rock.

He’s jumpy, evasive, and silent when they return with Suki, Chit-Sang, and Dad in tow, and any attempt to train with him, talk to him, or touch him is met with extreme prejudice and more than a few hours of Zuko hiding himself in every corner he can find like a feral pygmy-puma. This is a problem now because Sokka is  _ invested _ and also a natural connoisseur of poking things that should not be poked, including but not limited to, banished, firebending princes.

He won’t come within six feet of Dad, and if he’s got the option he’ll choose the other side of the room, even if it’s the side that opens out into where the chilliest breezes blow. Maybe it’s because he knows that Sokka and Katara talked so much shit about him the last time they saw each other.

Maybe it’s not.

Sokka doesn’t know whether it’s what they went through at the prison, or seeing his sister, or his ex-girlfriend betraying his sister to help them, or any or all of the people they brought back with them, but he can’t take much more of it.

He corners Zuko after reminding Toph about the last time Aang tried to skip practice with her so she’ll have him  _ all day _ , and Katara’s been so wrapped up with Dad that Sokka won’t have to worry about her, and starts his deep, meaningful conversation with Zuko by tossing his swords at him.

“Come on, Princess,” he taunts, “Let’s go.”

Zuko doesn’t give in and merely dusts off his swords still safely in their sheaths and turns away.

“Don’t think so,” he grumbles, which is a distinct upgrade from stony silence. “Not today.”

“Yes today!” Sokka leaps forward and Zuko throws his hands up, which is exactly what Sokka wanted him to do as it puts them into solid grabbing range. Which he immediately does, holding them snugly in his own and sidling closer. “You’re spiraling.”

“You think I don’t  _ know _ that?!” Zuko snaps helplessly.

“So let someone  _ help you,  _ you dumb idiot.”  _ Let me help you _ is what Sokka doesn’t say, but it’s what he means. When he tugs on Zuko’s hands the other boy goes as if on a tether, like he has no other choice, until he bumps him in the chest and goes stiff. Recoils. “Easy, easy. I already said I’m not gonna hurt you. We’re not fighting, you’re fine,” Sokka says and releases one of them to reach up and curl around Zuko’s shoulder and reel him in like a fish until he feels the other boy’s heart pounding like a war drum against his chest. 

It’s definitely not anything like a hug, because if it was, Toph would laugh herself sick. If it was a hug, then Zuko definitely would not be letting him do it, and he  _ definitely  _ wouldn’t be leaning into the touch like he needs it.

The poor dumb fucker definitely needs it.

“Can you use your words?” Sokka asks.

Zuko cannot use his words, and Sokka gives him a squeeze until the energy vibrating off of him settles, then releases to give him space.

“Dad’s gonna cook tonight,” he tells him, “It’d be nice if you showed up for it. I’ll even sit across from him and save you a seat by me.”

Zuko’s glare deepens, and he doesn’t say anything. That evening, he shows up from whatever hole he dug himself down into and throws himself down next to Sokka. He doesn’t even get snippety when he’s wordlessly handed his jar of chili-grass-garlic paste, and Sokka doesn’t think twice about reaching out to give his hand a squeeze. 

He’s so proud of Zuko learning how to be people.

And then, Zuko goes stiff as a board, and Sokka realizes that he just grabbed his hand in front of everybody like Zuko’s his new girlfriend, and he’s gonna have an awkward conversation with Suki in his future judging by the look on her face. Katara looks like she’s going to swallow her own tongue. He’s definitely gonna have an awkward conversation with  _ Dad _ in the future judging by the look on  _ his _ face, and Aang and Toph...are  _ grinning. _

It’s the most terrifying fucking thing that Sokka’s ever seen.

“Sokka, you’ve done it,” Toph says, and Zuko suddenly looks like he regrets every single one of his life choices that brought him here, “You’ve finally fucking done it.”

She pauses for dramatic effect like the monster she is. 

“ _ You’ve broken the seal. _ ”

Zuko’s not even got the time to get out the words _broken the fucking _**_what_** before he’s got an airbender filling the empty space between him and Katara, and Toph bodily shoves herself between them on his other side. Aang grabs one arm, Toph grabs the other, and then as one borderline inhuman nightmare, they squish Zuko into a firebender sandwich.

A firebender sandwich who proceeds to blush red all the way down his collar and squirms where he sits.

He doesn’t hate it, though, because if he did, he’d definitely be climbing the walls to get away. Zuko accepts his fate with more dignity than Sokka could have ever expected. And, if he’s reading it right, Zuko can’t figure out which way he wants to lean and sways a little until they take mercy on him and squeeze him tight enough that he doesn’t have to choose.

It’s adorable.

It should have been  _ super weird,  _ but watching Zuko tuck his chin in and let a couple of very dangerous children cuddle him is cute as hell. What’s better is that thanks to Sokka’s newly-awakened Zuko Safety Sense, he can see clearly that far from being being uncomfortable, Zuko’s calmer and more relaxed than he thinks he’s ever seen him. And embarrassed, but that is nothing new.

“How did we get here?” Sokka asks into the void. The void answers back with resignation and some wry humor and sounds a whole lot like Zuko,

“I’m not sure but I think it had something to do with the Avatar.”

* * *

Sokka’s Safety Sense may be closely attuned to Zuko, but even he can sense danger that night when Hakoda stops him on the way to his room and asks for a few minutes. Sokka would give Dad all the minutes he had, but he has a sinking feeling he knows what this talk is about. 

They’ve been fighting the Fire Nation for practically forever and even though Dad’s been around the world enough to know better, part of Sokka’s worried that he’s gonna try and beat up Zuko for being the The Enemy even though the guy had a substantial hand in rescuing him in the first place. Sokka’s spent  _ way  _ too much time trying to help Zuko sort himself out to let him be murdered because somebody doesn’t like where he’s from. Obviously, Zuko wants nothing to do with Hakoda because of his own reasons, but he doesn’t want his dad to think that that’s because Zuko has a case of casual racism either.

And like, okay, the Fire Nation’s done some terrible shit and honestly Zuko’s done some pretty terrible shit, but when you compare it to what’s been done to him, he comes off looking way better. What Sokka’s learned to understand is that there are terrible people everywhere and good people everywhere, and where you come from has nothing to do with who you are.

Sokka’s surprised to discover how ready he is to correct any misunderstanding on the matter.

“Listen, Dad, you can't be mad about Zuko,” he starts in a rush before Hakoda can say anything, “He’s not gonna do anything to hurt us ,and he’s not like his dad at all and he’s not...he’s a total wreck, but he’s a good dude. I didn’t even ask him to help break you out of prison, but he did anyway, even though we could have  _ died _ and his horrible, terrifying sister could have gotten her hands on him, and he’s been through so much garbage, Dad, that it’s absolutely insane.”

Hakoda just blinks at him. Has he forgotten what words are? Has it been that long since they’ve really talked that they don’t even understand each other anymore?

“Son,” he says very slowly, but Sokka talks over him before he can say anything else.

“Like, he doesn’t know how to  _ touch _ people, Dad, and he wants to and somebody  _ hurt him _ and now he’s scared as shit  _ all the time _ , and you can’t be mad about him because I won’t let you!” That’s his line in the sand and he’s sticking to it. 

Dad’s boggling at him as if he’s wondering who the hell Sokka is and where he came from.

“Son,” he tries again, and Sokka tries again, but Dad wised up since the last time and uses his own tactic on him by just talking right the fuck over him, “I am not mad about Zuko.”

“You’re...you’re not?”

That was not what he expected.

Hakoda snorts at him, and shakes his head.

“First of all, son, you’ve been a man of the tribe since I left, and you’ve been more involved in this war than I would ever have liked, but you’ve done it so well and I’m unspeakably proud of you. If you trust Zuko, then I support you. But,” he continues, “You are right that this talk is about him.”

Sokka swallows hard.

“What I was going to ask before you interrupted me was how long it’s been that you’ve been courting him and when you had planned on telling me.”

Sokka stares.

Hakoda stares back.

Sokka narrows his eyes, looking for the joke.

Dad narrows his eyes right back.

“ _ Um _ ,” is the only thing his mouth will make and it comes out in a horrifying squeak, “Why would you even  _ say that _ ?”

“We all saw you holding his hand,” Hakoda points out. Sokka resists the urge to laugh hysterically. “It’s clear that you care for him, and he cares for you in return. I don’t know how they do it in the Fire Nation, but it looks like courting to me. There’s nothing wrong with you if you have feelings for men, it’s perfectly normal and natural—“

“ _ I do not have  _ ** _feelings—_ ** “

“ _ And _ ,” Hakoda continues aggressively, as if Sokka had said nothing, “What kind of father would I be if I didn’t support my only son in his quest for happiness? And then to find out that my  _ only son _ thought that I was the kind of man who would beat up his boyfriend?”

Sokka has to reach out and grab the wall because that’s where he’s going to die, right here, right now. He can’t believe how completely wrong Dad’s got it, how  _ totally wrong he is,  _ because what the fuck, he’s definitely not  _ dating  _ Zuko. And to be honest, a part of him warms because in the scheme of things, he’s so lucky to have a father who’s not complete and fiery garbage, who loves him and supports him even though he’s absolutely, definitely wrong about what he’s supporting.

With that in mind, Sokka drags himself off the wall and throws himself at his dad, wrapping his arms around him and holding tight, lets himself feel small and safe. There’s no hesitation in Hakoda hugging him back just as tight.

“They really messed him up, Dad,” he whispers somewhere into Hakoda’s chest. It feels good to say something to A Real Adult. “I’m not dating him and if I was, I promise that I’d let you know. I’m just...helping him.”

“By holding his hands.”

Sokka feels his cheeks burn.

“It helps him calm down!” He defends himself, “Somebody touches that guy out of nowhere and they’re gonna go down, friendly or not.” What Sokka doesn’t say is how much his soft, squishy heart hurts when he thinks about how something that’s supposed to make you feel good has been so ruined for Zuko, but he thinks Hakoda hears it anyway if the way he pets his head is any indication. “I just...I want to show him that not everybody wants to hurt him.”

“In that case, you’re a very good friend to him.”

Dad  _ totally _ doesn’t believe him but Sokka will take what he can get.

“He’s a good friend to us, too.”

* * *

  
  


Sokka cannot  _ believe _ they actually made it.

He thinks he might honestly be in shock from it all, but the bottom of his stomach is stubbornly cold when he thinks of what might have gone down in the caldera where the palace resides. Where Zuko and Katara went to have words with Azula.

He’s so terrified of what he’s going to find when he gets there, and not even Dad’s steadying hand on his shoulder is enough to quell his anxiety because he can feel the minute trembles running between them and he knows that Dad’s just as afraid. Probably not  _ so _ much for Zuko (other than he’s still determined that Sokka’s trying to court him) but definitely for Katara. 

Azula is one crazy piece of work.

It’s been the longest twenty-four hours of his life, but Sokka knows that, broken leg or no, if he stops now he doesn’t know when he’ll start again, and he can’t stop until he knows what happened in the capital. Toph’s equally antsy in the airship, and Aang vacillates from elated to sick with worry by turn. Iroh…Iroh looks like he’s halfway through his grieving process and got stuck. He hasn’t said a word since they picked him up. He hasn’t taken a sip of tea, hasn’t done anything but twist his hands in his robes and breathe deeply in a way that Sokka finds extremely familiar.

That’s Zuko’s brand of deep breathing, he recognizes, that thing he does when he’s on the verge of flying right off the fucking handle and needs to sit on himself.

They got the Fire Lord, but what of the rest?

Is there even going to be anyone to sit on the throne when the dust clears?

It feels like forever that they sit in nauseating silence until somebody (Suki, he thinks? She took the flying shift after his) hollers that they’re nearing Capital City, and that they should be landing within a half hour. Sokka scrambles to the nearest window to look. Iroh doesn’t move.

The good news is that nothing seems to be on fire.

The bad news is that nothing seems to be on fire?

He can’t even spare a thought to the pain in his leg, wrapped and cast to keep it still, as they maneuver the airship right down to land in front of the palace, where Sokka is sure that airships definitely aren’t supposed to be parked, and clamber or hobble out of it. The city is dead silent. 

Maybe the rest of the world has been shocked into stillness in the aftermath. 

And then, suddenly, the palace doors slam open with a great booming crash. There’s Zuko standing in the doorway wearing loose red and gold robes that don’t even pretend to hide the bandages wrapping his entire upper body, and  _ snow and sea _ , there’s Katara behind him, safe and sound and perfectly, beautifully irritated. Sokka’s so fucking happy he could start crying, because somehow they got lucky enough that  _ everyone he cared about lived _ . Zuko stares at the lot of them like he can’t believe it either, and then very slowly the biggest, dopiest, sunshiniest grin spreads all over his whole face. Sokka’s never seen that kind of look on him before. Zuko looks like hell, but that doesn’t stop him from throwing himself down the palace steps three at a time with a focus.

“Can you  _ at least _ slow down so you don’t wreck all your healing progress?” Katara snaps at him and hustles herself after him, and Sokka feels like he gets hit with a tank when Zuko slams into him without hesitation, picking him up off his feet and crushing him to his chest, then doing the same to Toph, Aang, and even Suki. Then, Zuko looks up to see his uncle standing behind them with Hakoda and  _ flings _ himself into his arms.

The old firebender rocks back on his feet from the impact, but catches Zuko easily, like he weighs nothing, folding him close and holding him so tightly Sokka thinks for a minute that Iroh’s gonna just pick him up and run away with him and never come back. He doesn’t do that, though, and Sokka takes the time to squeeze the hell out of his baby sister (and Aang too because why the hell not, kid deserves a few more hugs too, and if Toph and Suki get in on it too then that’s totally fine) because all the optimism in the world wouldn’t take away his fears of  _ what if, what if _ . Then, Dad’s there holding onto both of them, and things finally feel  _ right. _

He hears a noise from the Zuko end of things, and he feels wrong to look at something that’s clearly a private moment happening right there on the lawn, and Sokka goes still. And he realizes that at some point Zuko started laughing into Iroh’s chest and now it’s like he can’t stop. It gets louder and higher and more hysterical, and Sokka realizes with abject  _ horror _ that Zuko’s burst into tears and is now sobbing into Uncle’s robes like his heart’s been broken into pieces. The old dragon looks shocked out of his mind and stricken like his own heart’s been snapped right along with Zuko’s.

Sokka manages to peel himself away from his own personal cuddle puddle and makes a beeline for them because he cannot  _ handle _ that, and drapes his whole body over Zuko’s back, presses him down until he’s squished between them like an emotional support sandwich. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re gonna be fine,” Sokka mumbles nonsensically into the nape of Zuko’s neck and pets his hair until the noise dies in his throat and all he can do is shake. This is going to do exactly nothing for Dad’s opinion on their relationship, and he can’t make himself give a shit.

Iroh’s got an awfully interesting look on his face, though. Not totally unlike Hakoda’s that first night he saw his son grab Zuko by the hand and hold.

Dad needs to quit smirking; it’s not cute at all.

Somehow, the lot of them manage to drag themselves into the palace where a whole lot of painfully respectful and extremely uncomfortable house staff shuffle them all into a parlor and push food and drinks and cushions on them. Sokka doesn’t miss how Zuko ends up with a massive blanket bundled up around him that makes him look kind of like an exhausted caterpillar who needs to go back to bed. Iroh manages to goad Hakoda into a game of pai sho on the other side of the room where he can surreptitiously keep an eye on his nephew. Being annihilated by a smiling, tea-drinking tile shark is exactly what Dad gets for all of his teasing. 

They talk and laugh and tell stories for what feels like forever, until they’re so full of food that none of them could eat another thing, and all the self proclaimed grown ups have walked away to be boring or to take a nap. Sokka leans over to curl into Zuko’s heavily blanketed, delightfully soft side. Zuko, who’s being bracketed by Toph to his left, Katara with Suki’s head in her lap, and Aang being rude as hell and laying on top of all of them.

“How did we get here?” Sokka asks absently into the void. Once again, the void answers back with resignation and some wry humor and sounds a whole lot like Zuko,

“I’m not sure but I think it had something to do with the Avatar.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a scene I really wanted to add to the main body of the fic but upon doing another reading there just didn’t seem to be a good place to put it, so I’m adding it as a little bonus chapter!

* * *

Tonight’s a bad night.

The comet is just a few days out and they’re all about to crawl out of their skin with stress. Aang’s missing and for the first time Sokka’s brain is filled with the static of  _ not knowing _ . He’s the plan guy. He always has  _ some _ kind of plan, and right now his plan stops at  _ find an adult,  _ because that’s all he’s got right now.

So that’s what they’re doing, is finding a goddamn adult, who happens to be former General Iroh. This and not just his constant struggle with existence on a human kind of level is Zuko’s current malfunction.

Sokka knows that their relationship might not necessarily be complicated, but it is fraught and they didn’t part on good terms. He also knows that Zuko is  _ scared shitless _ of seeing Iroh again. Nyla’s leading then to Ba Sing Se, another place that Sokka never thought he'd be going again. Even a shirshu needs to rest, so they’ve set up camp about a day’s move from the city, ish. They should only have to do this once more.

Katara’s crawled into her bedroll, definitely not crying quietly before slipping off into sleep. Toph’s closed herself off in her rock tent. Suki...Sokka doesn’t even know where she’s gone off to.

It’s a bad night.

But he’s still got Zuko who looks like he can’t decide whether he wants to run away and never come back or just burn the world to the ground and start over.

“Can you please just stop pacing?” Sokka mumbles into quiet.

“What’s the point?”

“The point is that the pacing is giving me a headache, and I can’t deal, so either _ go away _ or come over here so we feel awful together.” 

Sokka doesn’t have the give for this. All this time, all he can think of is that this was what people felt a hundred years ago, when they needed the Avatar, and  _ he wasn’t there _ . He wants to have faith in Aang, but the only thing he knows is that Aang’s not here. They’ve got no choice but to do this thing without him.

And Sokka feels  _ guilty. _

He’s not stupid, he knows that Aang’s crisis was kickstarted with trying to teach him to kill, and why the hell had Sokka thought that Melon Lord was a good plan?

At least Zuko’s plan had also sucked, Sokka thinks with a tiny bit of vindication. He’s at least not sitting here on top of Shame Mountain all by himself.

The prince in question throws himself roughly to the ground next to Sokka, and it’s practice and a borderline desperate need to just connect with someone that has Sokka leaning into him and curling an arm around his waist. Zuko freezes for just a moment but accepts the contact, tentatively wraps his own arm around Sokka’s shoulders to pull him flush against his side. Sokka’s used to being the one who comforts, and it’s a funny role reversal, but it feels  _ really good _ .

Zuko’s a solid guy, all muscle and bone, but he knows well how to be gentle, and the way with which he handles Sokka right now is so gentle that it almost hurts. 

“This fuckin’ sucks.” The words are way harsher than Zuko’s being right now, rough and raspy. Sokka remembers that until Aang showed back up, Zuko had been on a ship for three years. Maybe he misses it.

“It really,  _ really  _ sucks,” Sokka agrees vehemently with a nod that shakes his whole upper body, and lets himself settle into the natural warmth that firebenders give off, lets himself take what Zuko’s willing to give. “I’m trying so hard not to be angry.”

“At Aang?”

“...yeah.”

Because what it comes down to is that yeah, Sokka is kind of angry with Aang for putting them here but more than that, he’s mad at himself. He thinks that out of anyone here, Zuko understands that. Of course, Zuko doesn’t say that he understands, but the way he tilts his head to let his cheek press against Sokka’s hair says enough about it.

“What if Uncle doesn’t want to see me?” Zuko whispers so quietly that if Sokka hadn’t been waiting for him to speak, he wouldn’t have even heard him. 

“He will.”

“But what if he  _ doesn’t? _ ” Zuko’s voice takes on a nearly hysterical lilt that makes him sound about half his age. “I don’t…how can I believe that? I don’t even want to see me most of the time. He spent  _ so much time  _ trying to help me, and I was so ungrateful, and couldn’t even choose him when it mattered.” These words are poison, and Sokka wonders how long Zuko’s been poisoning himself on them with nowhere for them to go. “I tried...on the day of Black Sun, I tried to break him out of the Fire Lord’s prison.” Not  _ my father _ . It hasn’t been  _ my father _ in a while. “But he was already gone.” This has clearly been eating at him. 

“I don’t know how the Fire Nation does things,” Sokka says, soothed almost against his will by not being so  _ alone _ right now, “But when someone we love does us wrong, and comes to us and apologizes, we forgive them. And your uncle  _ loves you,  _ I don’t think there’s any way he won’t at least want to see you.” Sokka knows that the only way to allay Zuko’s fears is for him to face them, but that doesn’t mean he can’t try and help. “And if things go badly, you’ve still got us.” 

_ You’ve still got me _ .

What Zuko needs to hear is that his uncle is not his father, and Sokka can’t in good conscience say that without feeling like he’s lying somehow because he doesn’t know. He wants to think so because if he’s wrong, he knows that Zuko won’t survive it. He  _ knows _ . And Zuko will fight and do what he has to because that’s what he knows how to do, but on the inside his heart will probably just curl up and die. So Sokka has to believe that Iroh will want to see Zuko, and he had to try and believe that Aang will pull through in the end even though it all seems so fucking hopeless.

“I’m grateful,” Zuko says finally. He doesn’t really have a normal speaking voice, Sokka’s noticed; he’s either very quiet, or he’s yelling until he’s hoarse and very little in between, but this is the closest he’s come to it. “For all of you, but especially for— for  _ you _ . I wouldn’t be here without you, and I’m grateful.” The funny thing about Zuko is that while everything embarrasses him, he can somehow manage to make the most horrifyingly forthright, honest words come out of his mouth without the slightest bit of shame. Sokka couldn’t have managed it without at least hiding behind a bush as he said it.

He also can’t help but give Zuko a firm squeeze around the middle because now he’s  _ feeling things _ , and he thinks he’s gonna explode if he doesn’t do something. He tries to put all his care into that squeeze, because Zuko might be great at saying mortifying things, but Sokka tries to avoid it at all cost.

“Zuko, listen,” Sokka says, “When we win, I’m gonna hug the absolute shit out of you. And not before! Otherwise it’s a pre-ward, and we might be fucked. When we beat this thing and all come out alive, I am giving you the greatest hug of your life.”

He kind of expects Zuko to laugh it off or loosen up, but what he doesn’t expect is for the other boy’s  _ whole fucking face  _ to soften into something so gentle Sokka can’t even look at it, so he buries his own in Zuko’s shoulder in a misguided attempt to pretend he didn’t see it. Zuko’s arm around him is warm and heavy and solid, and his hand comes up to the nape of Sokka’s neck, squeezes, and holds so softly that it’s like it’s not even there.

“I’ll look forward to it,” Zuko says so honestly that Sokka has to believe he’s not kidding.

It’s still a bad night, but it’s better together.


End file.
